


March On [temporarily on hiatus ;( ]

by symphxny



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ;)), Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, also, i can say right now all of the marching stuff will be accurate af, i'll put their sections in the notes, it's my headcanons tho it might not line up w you, only bc i live there and know how the system works, or at least to my school, she's probably gonna come out later just sayin, they're all nerds, this takes place somewhere in indiana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphxny/pseuds/symphxny
Summary: (the literal cheesiest title I'm so sorry)Over the course of the 2016-2017 marching/winter season, our favorite ragtag team gets into wild shenanigans. Gay? Check. Slow burn? Check. The Ultimate™ friendships? You bet your ass.





	1. 04/08/16

**Author's Note:**

> This entire thing is going from July to November, which is the end of the marching season. I have a plan in my head for a sequel, which would be winter to spring, but I could also slap it on the end.
> 
> Sections! Some of these dudes do more than one thing so that will be listed, along with their grade.  
> Coran is the band director. Is stressed but loves these kids.  
> Matt graduated the year before and is a freshman in college, but comes back to help Coran out on occasion. He played saxophone and was a drum major with Shiro his senior year.  
> Shiro's a senior, the drum major, and also plays marimba for concert band.  
> Allura is also a senior, the colorguard captain, and plays flute for concert band.  
> Hunk, a junior, marches tuba and also plays it in the winter.  
> Lance is a junior, colorguard co-captain with Allura (more like second in charge?), and plays trumpet in the winter.  
> Keith is a junior as well, he's the center snare and plays marimba for concert band (always second chair to Shiro).  
> Pidge, a baby freshman, plays piano in the pit and also flute in the winter, and is the selected flute soloist for this year (she's something of a prodigy).

**04/08/16**

Lance stretched his long legs over to Allura’s seat, the two chatting quietly as he tried to ignore the sun being too damn bright and hot for 9:00 in the morning. They were heading over to their rival school, Galra Academy, to march in the Fourth of July parade before their own which would be later that afternoon. It was too early in the morning for Lance, as he was used to waking up after noon every day since the end of school. He turned and glared as someone from percussion whooped loudly from the back. Coran, their band director, had miscounted the number of band kids and ended up a bus short, so the percussion and colorguard were crammed together and neither group was quite happy about it.

Allura, a senior and Lance’s best friend, tightened her already-perfect, glossy white-blonde ponytail. She was colorguard captain for the second year in a row, and this year Lance was co-captain because he had seniority over most other guard people besides her. He was really excited for this year, but there was a hint of melancholy as a lot of his friends were seniors and would be graduating. But they still had 5 months ahead of themselves, and the success streak of the  Garrison High Marching Paladins would continue. Allura adjusted her gloves as quietly as she could, sabre balanced on her knees. Lance cracked his knuckles and stretched his wrists, ready for the day ahead. His only real concern was that the drumline would speed the cadence to an unholy speed, but they were kept under Shiro’s thumb enough to make sure that would never happen again.

As he fiddled with the hem of his black-and-red t-shirt (which did  _ nothing _ for his eyes, by the way), the bus screeched to a stop in the parking lot of their rival school. A lump rose in his throat, as it normally did before Lance did any kind of performance, but he swallowed it, fiddling with the strap of his rifle. Lance truly loved the colorguard and even though he still had small bits of anxiety four years later, it was still amazing.

“Allura, we  _ have _ to do a captain selfie,” Lance begged, holding up his phone. Allura rolled her eyes cheekily, but still giving a large grin for the photo. He poked his tongue out a little, and his freckled cheeks puffed out. He wasn’t quite as tan as he would be once band camp rolled around, but having Cuban heritage really helped with that. Once the photo was taken, he swiped through a few filters before deciding it looked better without and captioning it “ _ first selfie of the year with the best co-captain ever!! xoxo _ ” and posting it on Snapchat. 

Shiro waded up from his seat in the back with percussion, pushing his way to the front through the sea of slightly sweaty and irritated teenagers. He was the sole drum major this year, as Matt Holt had graduated the year before and Coran hadn’t found a good replacement. As a result, Shiro would be a little more high-strung than usual this year, and Lance made a quick note to tell the guard to be nice to him. Shiro’s aviators reflected some of the sunlight filtering into the bus, causing temporary blindness to everyone watching him.

“Coran is on Bus 1, and he hadn’t given me any instructions for once we got here. So, sit tight, I guess.” Shiro shrugged, and Lance snickered as Allura watched his broad shoulders lift and drop. He poked her in the side, and she smacked his hand, scowling slightly. But, Lance would swear up and down that he could see a faint trace of a blush on her smooth, dark cheeks. Shiro went to go sit down again, and the low buzz of conversation grew louder as everyone grew hot and restless waiting for Coran.

After about 5 minutes, Coran’s head popped up as he stepped on the bus. Ginger hair smoothed back, Coran pushed on the most dad-like sunglasses before clearing his throat. “Please exit the bus carefully, and meet with the other members of the band for brief stretching before we march. Colorguard, you’re in the front. Drumline, the very back. We start at 9:30. And please, for the love of everything holy, do not forget your godda- your sunscreen.” He sighed, and everyone who had been around long enough to remember had a collective flashback to Matt Holt in his junior year. He had turned as red as a tomato and had gotten sun poisoning, and later that day he ended up vomiting through the mouthpiece of his saxophone and it sprayed out of the bell and onto a poor freshman, who quit the very next day.

As everyone filed off of the bus, Allura pulled the guard over to underneath a large oak, counting heads to make sure all 24 members were there. She led them through basic stretches, before helping Coran line everyone up. Once the colorguard was in place, Shiro stood behind them and the band filed in. Drumline was placed in the back, and the rest of the percussion member scattered. They couldn’t really march with a marimba, so some helped the parents give the kids water, some crashed cymbals at the most inopportune time possible, and there were two kids in the front holding the fraying banner that read ‘Garrison High Marching Paladins.’

Keith, the center snare and the source of Lance’s annoyance, tapped off a marching tempo as they slowly fed into the parade. Tossing and spinning effortlessly, he went through the route, sometimes meeting Allura’s eye and grinning; he also made a point of waving at every little kid and winking at every cute girl (or guy, Lance wasn’t picky) he saw in the audience.

**-later-**

Lance didn’t sweat. He  _ sparkled _ , dammit. However, everyone around him was sweating and that dragged his mood down quite a bit. He was grumpy because although he could handle the heat (he was Cuban, if he couldn’t Lance would have to completely and dramatically renounce his identity), there weren’t any water bottles left in the coolers by the time he got up to them. He wiped off his forehead, eyes bouncing around the crowd of Garrison High band kids in his search for Allura. Instead, he found Keith holding a mostly full water bottle, and Lance swaggered over to quickly take the water from Keith and down some before the shorter snare could do anything about it.

“Hey, asshole. That’s not yours.” Keith growled, taking it back. It was clear he wasn’t meant for the heat, his pale skin flushed with a light red. If Lance didn’t hate him, he’d say it was pretty. But Lance rolled his eyes, a sarcastic comment thrown over his shoulder as he spotted Allura.

“Whatever, Mullet.” Because that was a totally classy insult. Lance pushed through band kids, commenting “ew” on a couple sucking face against another person who looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them. But he stopped in his tracks, because Allura and Shiro were talking quietly on the outside of everyone else.

The two had danced around each other for two years now, and right now Shiro’s expression was one of awe (he couldn’t blame him, Allura was scientifically the greatest human alive) and Allura’s was sweet. It frustrated Lance that they took too long to get together, because they needed to get married and have tall, gorgeous, and scarily talented children. Lance took a detour, ending up to where Pidge and Hunk were standing.

Pidge, man. Matt had showed up one day last year with his baby sister, only an eighth grader, and he boasted that she was  _ the _ next flute player and that little Katie would take his place. In response, she flipped them all off and told them to call her Pidge or else she’d hide exactly one piece of their instruments, rendering them useless. She was scarily talented at a lot of things, namely piano and flute, but she also had a mind for any sort of technology and Lance couldn’t wait to see what she'd be like by the time she was a senior. And Hunk? Lance’s  _ other _ best friend, the one who had been around forever and would stay that way. He was a gentle giant, and he towered over everyone else at 6’5 but had only really gotten mad at that one dumbass who had bullied Lance when he’d first come out. Hunk played the tuba, and his favorite running joke was sneaking up on someone before blasting the  _ Jaws _ theme, scaring the shit out of them. He was also a whiz in the kitchen, and had cooked way too much for Lance to conceivably pay him back sometime this century.

“My dudes!” Hunk turned from where he was loudly debating with Pidge over the new Pokemon generation, his grin quickly matching Lance’s.

“Dude! Tell Pidge here that the new Pokemon games are  _ clearly _ worth it.” Hunk nudged her with his elbow, and even though it was the lightest he could have gone she still was nearly knocked over, being nearly a foot and a half shorter than him and a third of his weight.

“Bullshit! The only good generations were the first two.” Pidge stuck her tongue out. Though she adored all sorts of technology and always had the latest things, she had a soft spot for anything vintage or original, and that extended to video games as well.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Lance joked. Pidge was by far the youngest of their ragtag group, but she fit in almost better than Lance did. “And anyway,  _ clearly _ the answer is that the best generation was the fifth one.” Both spluttered, tripping over themselves to tell Lance to shove it, and then back to playfully bickering about Pokemon.

Before long, Coran was rounding everyone up again, trying to get everyone back on the bus. Lance was late getting on, and all the seats in the front were full. He squeezed to the back, muttering about seniority under his breath, before throwing himself into a seat...which already had a body in it. Keith.

The teenager in question rolled his eyes, scooting closer to the window. “Why aren’t you in the front with the guard, McClain?” He said Lance’s last name like it was an insult, fiddling with the harness in his lap.

“The seats were full,  _ Kogane _ ,” Lance returned the favor. “You might have noticed if you weren’t still sulking like you were still in your emo phase.” Keith scoffed, turning to face out the window. The short ride home was tense. For some reason, Keith Kogane really pushed Lance’s buttons and vice versa. “Hey. Allura’s having a pool party for the Fourth. Need a ride?” Keith lived just down the block, and though they didn’t get along even in elementary school, there were so many playdates they had each other’s addresses memorized.

“Sure.” Keith muttered.

“But my abuela made pastelitos. And a lot. You’ve gotta help carry.”

“Deal.”


	2. 04/08/16 (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter cos it's just tying up the day, don't worry the later chapters (band camp, competitions, etc) are going to be longer.
> 
> Also, for future reference, here is Lance's family. I'll reintroduce them later, though.  
> Carlos (father), Maria (mother); Alex (or Alejandro, 22), Dani (or Daniella, 20), Lance (17), Marta (13) and Elisa (13, they're twins).

**04/08/16**

The busses pulled to a stop outside of the Garrison High band room, and everyone filed out and into the large room, chairs cleared for the summer. It still had that distinct band-room smell, even though no one had been in there much since May. All of the band kids finally filling the band room to the brim, Coran re-counted heads to prevent the incident of 2015 happening again (someone had stayed in the bathroom for too long and the busses left without them). He made a quick speech about it being the senior's last parade, and someone muttered "amen" from across the room. Lance couldn't really blame them, parades sucked ass, especially when there wasn't anyone interesting watching you.

This was what all of the kids looked forward to, if you could really count their mood as excitement. Once they got past Garrison’s parade, there were usually parties and barbeques and in a week band camp would start. No one honestly enjoyed band camp, only afterward did they say they would miss it. It was a lot like childbirth in that way, it sucked getting through it but once you were done you really wanted another. However, childbirth resulted in a tiny baby and band camp resulted in sunburns and the wish to absolutely quit (even though no one ever did).

The band moms were passing out popsicles, and Lance may or may not have shoved a smaller kid out of the way to receive a blue raspberry popsicle and a tight hug from Hunk’s mom. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and found his friend group, Keith awkwardly standing in the circle but participating in the conversation.

“Lance, you’ve got blue on your face.” Pidge giggled, holding a green-stained popsicle stick in her hands.

“Yeah, McClain. And blue raspberry? Everyone knows cherry’s the best.” Keith poked his tongue out, grinning smugly. His own tongue was bright red, but he must have thrown the stick away because Lance didn’t see it in his hands.  _ Jesus _ , that kid could be infuriating. His dumb mullet pulled into a dumb ponytail. Lance rolled his eyes, flipping a certain finger covered in sticky blue at Keith.

“Guys!” Hunk interrupted, holding his popsicle out in front of him. Even Shiro and Allura turned to look, standing  _ way _ too close together. “What kind of pets does a band have?” Hunk looked way too happy about whatever dumb joke he was going to say, but that was a staple of his. If you couldn’t handle the bad jokes, there was no point.

Shiro grinned. “I don’t know. What kind of pets  _ does _ a band have?”

“Trum-pets!” The joke was so dumb, and Hunk looked like he was about to cry from keeping laughter in, that Lance started cackling. The others looked at him for a moment before Pidge started giggling too, and then their whole group was genuinely laughing over a dumb band joke that Hunk got on his popsicle.

“Kids! One last parade, you can do this.” Coran rounded everyone up in the parking lot, where the other groups that would be in the parade were. Lance waved at Marta and Elisa, his little sisters, who were standing with their softball team. They were fraternal twins, Marta taking after Lance and therefore his dad’s side of the family, but Elisa was a carbon copy of their mother. They were the babies of the bunch, but they kept up with the craziness of the rest of his family just fine.

Keith tapped off again, a steady marching beat, and they were off. The band wound their way through their town, and Lance could see that a lot of people were drawn out despite it being ungodly hot. A fine sheen of sweat caused his hair to plaster to his forehead, and he pushed it out of his eyes to make sure that he didn’t mess up. His mother had been bothering him to get a haircut for a couple weeks, and Lance kept one eye open at night just in case she snuck in with a razor. The parade flew by, and by the time it was over Lance was sure he’d never get their school song out of his head.

After ten minutes the herd of band kids thinned considerably, everyone buzzing about their plans for the Fourth. Lance remembered he was giving Keith a ride, and then their group would meet up again at Allura’s house. He would have asked her what time, but she was awkwardly flirting with Shiro so he just resolved to texting her later. 

“Uh, she’s got a pool, right?” Keith was walking next to him, and Lance took pride in the small fact that he was like four inches taller than the percussionist. 

“Yeah. Do you need your swim trunks? Cause Allura’s going to suggest chicken and one way or another you’re going to fight. It’s like Battle Royale, man. She’s intense.” Lance chuckled, and the two made it out to his car in one piece. They got along oddly well when they weren’t bickering. Keith shook his head no, and climbed in the passenger seat of Lance’s dad’s pickup, twirling a well-taped drumstick in his hands.

“Dude, Coran is like taunting us with this show. He says it’s gonna be the best we’ve ever done but  _ this man _ isn’t telling us.” Keith switched to tapping out last year’s show music on the dashboard, stopping when Lance shot him a glare.

“ _ I know right _ !? And Pidge, that fucker, she knows the solo music.  _ And it’s goddamn Disney _ .” Lance smacked his hands against the steering wheel, pulling into his driveway. “Here, come with me. Act cool in front of my family,” he teased, slipping out of the driver’s seat.

“As if I could be anything but, McClain.” Keith rolled his eyes and followed Lance into his house. It was a decent sized Victorian, red brick with peeling white shutters. It looked friendly and cheerful, with colorful flowers planted out front that Lance boasted about. Lance’s mom and grandma were bustling about the house, before Lance called out to them and had a conversation consisted of quick Spanish yelled from the back of the house to the front.

“Here, grab one.” Lance pushed a tray of pastries over to him. They were Lance’s abuela’s famous pastelitos, a favorite at any gathering he went to. The tiny woman in question gave Lance a quick kiss before patting Keith on the cheek, muttering about how tiny and skinny all of Lance’s friends were.

They made a quick stop at Keith’s house so he could get his swimsuit and a towel, and both waved at Keith’s mom before making the trip across town. Shiro’s car was there, along with Hunk’s truck, so they went through the back gate where everyone was. Lance had changed at his house, so he simply took his shirt off and jumped in, getting Pidge’s hair wet to which she flipped him off, adjusting her glasses.

“When it gets dark, we can light the bonfire.” Allura smiled, wearing a blush-pink bikini that looked great on her. Lance wasn’t really into her, as evidenced by the embarrassing crush in seventh grade when they first meant, but the two were each other’s fashion consultants and biggest social media cheerleaders. Anyway, Shiro liked the look of her better, because he stared at her too long and got slammed in the side of the head by the volleyball he and Hunk were tossing around. Lance snickered and waded over to Pidge, who was sitting in a bright pink inflated tube and looking quite content.

“Dude. Where did that even come from?” She shrugged, flicking water at him with her toe.

“Dunno. But I’m just gonna drift until the pizza gets here.” Lance rolled his eyes and batted her away, sending Pidge floating off towards the deep end. Keith emerged from Allura’s back door, tossing his stuff near Lance’s and sliding into the water.

It would take an entire year for Lance to admit it, but he thought Keith looked really good in his swim trunks. He was  _ muscular _ , man.

“Chicken!” Allura crowed, already perched on Shiro’s shoulders. Their combined height towered over everyone else, and they seemed to be an unstoppable team. Lance turned to Hunk, arms thrown in the air.

“Dude! Team Green!” Hunk grinned, and bent down so Lance could clamber up onto his shoulders. Their pair was slightly taller, but Lance knew that Allura was strong as hell (evidence: she punched Lance in the face after he tried to kiss her) and their odds went down. Keith and Pidge were sat outside of the pool now, Pidge keeping individual tallies to declare the sole winner at the end.

“Fight!” Pidge shouted, Keith clinking a can of soda with her. Shiro stepped forward, and Lance braced his arms out as Hunk took a step back to keep distance. Allura yelled, startling Lance, and smacked her hand out, her palm making contact with his nose. He reeled back, tightening his thighs on Hunk’s head, and ducked low to push on her stomach. Shiro lost his footing and the two fell, standing up in the water and laughing, a heavy blush on each face.

Lance threw his arms in the air, victorious. “Team Green! One point!” Pidge marked it down, muttering something about how she was the green one. They spent the next half an hour playing chicken, and Lance ended up being the winner. Surprisingly, he and Pidge were an effective team as they were walking beanpoles with a decent amount of strength.

“Oh, I think the pizza’s here!” Allura’s parents stepped into the backyard, boxes stacked in their hands. Everyone present had brought a bit of money around $10, and they ended up ordering a large amount of pizza and breadsticks. Pidge ended up stealing an entire box of breadsticks and running, Hunk chasing after her. They found the two five minutes later, half of the box already empty. Pidge, even though she was 5'1 and weighed a buck ten soaking wet, could eat with the likes of Hunk and Lance.

By the time it was dark, their little group was very full and they all lingered in the pool to watch the town fireworks. Lance pretended he didn’t see Shiro and Allura practically cuddling in a chair, while he sat suspiciously close to Keith. The two were going back and forth about who was “winning,” aka how many blue fireworks there were in comparison to red.

“See! Three blues, right there!”

“Yeah, but that red one is cooler.”

“ _ You’re _ cooler.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Bam! Another blue!”

“That was purple, dumbass.” They bantered for the rest of the night like that, and even through the car ride back to Lance’s, from which Keith would walk home.

“I think I’m the clear winner here,” Keith waved, walking the block home.

“Whatever, loser. See you later,” Lance threw over his shoulder, before realizing what he said. They weren’t even that good of friends, right?

“Yeah, see you.” Keith turned his head, and Lance might have just watched him for an extra minute. You know, to make sure he got home safe. Who would he fight with if his #1 rival mysteriously died walking six houses down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think! (Shay's coming in for band camp, don't worry abt it ;)). I'm really excited to get the ball rolling on this, there's so much to write. Also, I'll try to update at least once a week. If I'm busy (which I'm not atm) it could be anywhere from 2-4 days between here and the next chapter, but if I get busy or it's a longer one, it might not be as quick. I will try to do at least 1 per week though! I'm looking at around 12 chapters, maybe more but no less. Thanks for reading, and pretty please leave kudos!! xx!!


	3. 18/08/16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello hello!!! i'm so excited to actually get this season going :D!! their show is actually based on mine (name changed for reasons) and i MIGHT give you guys a link but i don't want to reveal too much about who i am or where i live so :/...

Band camp.

Those two words meant sluggish teens waking up at “ass o’clock” to drag themselves to their band room, only to leave hours later just as tired - if not more - than they arrived. Really, it wasn’t too bad, because even though the Garrison High band kids were at the mercy of their instructors, Coran wasn’t totally evil (though he could be crazy sometimes) and the colorguard instructor, a pleasant woman named Melissa, worked well with them.

Lance blinked sleepily, trudging into the band room. His damn clock was set wrong and went off half an hour before it was supposed to, and so he was here just a tad too early. He still wasn’t used to waking up any time before noon, and he yawned, sitting in a chair placed in his usual corner of the band room.

After a while, more and more people filled in the band room. The first bunch of people were eager freshmen, then groups of older kids. Hunk and Pidge trudged in, and Pidge was holding a water jug that read **“MATT HOLT”** in her brother’s chicken scratch. Lance smiled a little at that, because Matt would never drink his water and may or may not have passed out more than once. Shiro was next, Allura close behind. They walked in together, chatting easily and smiling too much for band camp. Last was Keith, who looked like he was ready to punch something in the face, a trademarked ‘dead inside’ expression on his face.

The day started off slow, the early morning cool but after not even 5 minutes, heat had invaded everything, including Lance’s brain. The guard went through their stretches, taking up maybe half an hour, and they started to learn some of the opening flag work, as well as going over the basics again to have the newbies used to the flag in their hands. Around 11, the rifles split off to do basics, along with some work that would go in the show _somewhere_.

By noon, thankfully, they were let out for lunch and Lance found his way to the corner of the band room where Hunk was sitting with a new person. She was pretty, with thick dark hair and bright green eyes, and had a euphonium in her hands. Lance guessed that she was new.

“Dude, it’s _way too hot_ outside. This is coming from someone who spent every summer as a kid in Cuba!” He flung himself into a chair dramatically, tossing his arms up. The chatter in the band room was high as people ate their lunches, trying to soak in the cool air of the fans set up around the room. The girl giggled, smiling.

“I _know_. Oh, by the way. This is Shay. She’s brand new so I said she could sit with us.” Shay waved, smiling.

“Hi!” She seemed nice, and Lance had known her for an entire five minutes. The three of them talked for a bit, and after a short time the others joined them. Keith and Pidge were yelling about aliens, while Shiro and Allura introduced themselves to Shay. She fit in well with their little group, seemingly being into everyone’s interests. If she was faking enjoying even Keith’s wildest Mothman theories, she was good, and Lance loved her for it.

“Shay and Hunk are totally gonna date. By homecoming, I’ll bet.” Lance leaned over to whisper in Keith’s ear, nudging him gently with his elbow.

“I’d say first football game. Five bucks.”

“Dude. You’re totally on.” Lance probably didn’t have five bucks, but did Keith have to know that?

“And you can’t meddle. They need to take their sweet time.” _Fuck._ Meddling was exactly what Lance was going to do, but Keith would probably know if he did.

“You’re still on.”  The seven of them fell into an easy chatter, talking about anything from aliens to the weather to what classes they were taking once school started. Soon, lunch ended, and they had to drag themselves back outside to the terrible heat.

**-later-**

That afternoon, the entire band and guard received their drill for tomorrow. The students, however, were packed inside of the band room. It was buzzing with rumors about their marching show, and Coran was about to reveal what it would be. Then everyone would get their music, and slowly engrave it into their brain for the next six or so months.

Coran stood at the front of the room, fiddling with his mustache and waiting for the talk to die down. Over 100 pairs of eyes focused on him, and he cleared his throat.

“The 2016 Garrison High marching band show will be called Eternal.” Already, people started murmuring. This year’s show sounded different than anything they’d done before. “The opening music will be ‘Nature Boy’, by David Bowie, and it will have a saxophone solo. The next movement will be ‘Wild Nights’, by John Adams. The ballad, with a flute solo-”

Pidge squeezed Lance’s hand, as she was crowded next to him with  a devilish grin on her face. Lance squeezed back. The freshman already knew what her music would be, and probably had been practicing it for months, but she held it over their heads and this moment was the moment of truth.

“-will be ‘Colors of the Wind’, from _Pocahontas_.” Mutters flew around the room again, and the hardcore Disney fans looked really excited. “The closer will be the ‘Bourne Identity’, as well as ‘Listen With Your Heart’.”

The heat was still baking outside as people started to leave. Hunk had volunteered to take Shay around town and show her what was where, while Shiro was taking Pidge home so he could visit Matt, who would only be home for a week before starting a summer music program at the college he’d be going to. Allura had something with her parents, which left Keith and Lance again.

“Need a ride?” Lance extended the invitation, bumping Keith with his hip. The shorter was showing signs of sunburn, pink spreading over his cheeks and nose. _Just sunburn, right?_ Lance’s mind needed to shut the hell up.

“Yeah. Walking right now sounds like torture.” Keith fiddled with the peeling tape on a drumstick, his hair falling in his eyes. _Damn, that kid needed a haircut._ They slid into Lance’s pickup, quiet conversation floating back and forth. Blue, as she was affectionately named, was old as hell and her paint was patched in some places, but she still ran fine and what paint she did have still sparkled in the summer.

“Are you going to the bonfire at the end of the week? Apparently it’s at Jeremy’s house this year, but the entire band can go.” Lance parked in Keith’s driveway, the small but neat house sitting in front of them.

“I guess. I don’t know, nonrequired band things aren’t really my favorite. Too many people.” Keith responded, tapping his fingers. If there was one thing about Keith, it’s that his hands were always moving. He was either tapping, doodling, or drumming on whatever surface was closest to him.

“Yeah, I guess. But hey, free food! Those band bonfires always have good stuff, or at least s’mores.”

“I’ll think about it. You could give me a ride, right? I don’t really want to take my bike when you’re down the street.” Keith’s hair fell into his eyes again, and a funny feeling curled in Lance’s chest. _Shit_.

“Yeah, uh, totally. Text me, or whatever.” Lance mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. He was suddenly nervous talking to Keith, even though they were in his driveway in broad daylight. _Dude, what the fuck._ Lance’s brain was going a million miles per minute.

“Thanks.” Keith gave a small smile, which was rare for Lance in particular. The two either got along really well or not at all, squabbling over petty things, going past the point of playful banter. However, they’d known each other for years and somehow Keith and Lance hadn’t figured things out.

“N-no problem.” Lance hoped that Keith didn’t hear the small catch in his voice, and he gave a wave as Keith went around to the back door of his house. Driving the couple houses between them, Lance thought about what the _hell_ just happened. Like, what in the actual hell. Was that feeling...something? Nothing? Who knew, because it wasn’t Lance. He pushed the thought aside, and unlocked his back door to go into his house. He sagged into a chair in the kitchen, one hand on his forehead in the most dramatic way he could muster.

“ _Mamá_ , I hope you have a Lance-sized freezer in the house, because I’m never coming out until it’s winter.” Lance’s mother clucked her tongue at him, chopping vegetables for a salad. When he whined again she just smiled, telling him to go take a shower because family dinners were not a time to be sweaty. He rolled his eyes playfully, going up the stairs to the bathroom. He set his phone to his shower playlist, and the house nearly shook with “Hollaback Girl”.

When he finished, or rather was rushed out by Dani since she was going on a date, he noticed he had a text from Keith.

 

 **mullet boi** [5:36 P.M.] _I think I’m gonna go to the bonfire. You know, drumline bonding._

 **lance** [5:45 P.M.] _sweet!!!! :D ill pick u up then!!_

 

Lance smiled, plugging in his phone before going downstairs to where his mom had crowded everyone around the table, bowls of salad and plates of chicken sitting out. He couldn't wait for Friday, more so now that he'd be going with Keith to the bonfire. Jesus, since when was he so excited to spend time with Keith? He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and focused on eating, since his mother made the best damn chicken in the tri-state area and he was  _hungry_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a kudos because you love the small space children (& also me ;) but they're more important), and comment if you have a suggestion/idea!! i love you all <3!!


	4. 22/08/16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i am LIVING for young and menace you don't even KNOW and the greatest part is i live like half an hour from chicago and i will literally EVISCERATE MY OWN DAMN SELF and sell my organs on the black market just to go to whatever they're cooking up oh my GOD
> 
> also i have ideas for an atla au and y'all KNOW i'm gonna write that once i'm done w this lol

It was Friday, and Keith wasn’t pleased. Lance had bugged him all week about _who_ was going to the bonfire and _what_ they were going to do. He’d only agreed to make Lance happy, because when Lance was happy, everyone was happy. Really, he figured it wouldn’t be too bad, as long as he could hole up in a chair and avoid literally everyone else.

However, this Friday was sweltering, and Keith _despised_ the heat. He preferred the cool air of the upcoming fall, but July sucked. Keith figured he was going to get burn lines from the harness of his snare, even though he didn’t burn much; he was starting to freckle, though, tiny spots appearing on his shoulders and the bridge of his nose. They were few and far between but Keith couldn’t help but compare them to Lance’s, whose skin had gotten darker after only a week and you could pick out constellations on his cheeks.

That fucker. Keith didn’t _hate_ Lance, per se, but every time he saw the obnoxiously loud Cuban boy, something weird made its home in his stomach. He didn’t like the feeling, and tried to avoid Lance, but as fate would have it they ended up in the same friend group and were actually sort-of friends, if you could call it that. If they weren’t exchanging teasing banter, they were full-blown arguing over something small like a drill spot or who was better at what. Lance’s face could actually get pretty cute, contorted in mock anger, but Keith would never (ever ever ever) admit that.

Lance snapped him out of his reverie, long legs taking up some of Keith’s personal space and nudging him. “Hey, ready for that bonfire tonight? I heard it was going to be really... _lit_.” Keith softly glared at him, and Lance had a smug smile on his face that usually accompanied his terrible jokes.

“That’s like the third terrible joke you’ve made this week,” Pidge moaned, splayed out on the questionably stained carpet of the hallway just outside of the band room. “One more and I swear to god the bonfire is cancelled.”

“It’s not even at your house,” Lance snorted, pushing his leg out to gently kick Pidge in the side. “”

“Fuck it, _you’re_ cancelled.”

“Language,” Shiro warned in a light tone.

“You’re not my dad.” Pidge poked her tongue out. Shiro smiled at her before turning back to his conversation with Allura and Shay.

“Yeah, but he knows him.” Hunk muttered, trading sandwiches with Lance. Keith had noticed it was a tradition of sorts, even if they had the same exact thing they always traded sandwiches before eating. Lance had explained to him one day, something about it going on since first grade or something.

Pidge rolled her eyes at that, sitting up to dig in her lunch box. Lunch would be over in twenty or so minutes, and they were trying to take in the somewhat cooler indoor air before going outside again. They’d made progress on their drill, getting through the short opener and just starting the second movement. The drumline had most of their music learned, or at least all the way through the first two movements.

Keith played with the orange in his hand, peeling it in large chunks. Lance was going on about how his sisters were getting makeup for the first time, but they ended up fighting over something specific and lipstick was smeared all over the walls. He chuckled at that, but missed how Lance beamed when he heard Keith laugh.

“Uh, guys, lunch is done in 5.” Shiro stood up, much to the disappointment of Allura, and made his rounds through the band room and the surrounding hallways to tell the kids they had to get ready to go back outside. Lance groaned, throwing himself on Hunk in his usual dramatic fashion.

“Hey, do you have a hair tie?” Keith asked Allura, and she nodded, digging through her bag before producing a red hair tie. He reached up to tie his hair back, combing through it with his fingers before tying the small ponytail up. Keith liked his hair (or mullet, whatever) no matter how much Lance teased him about it, and he always tried to ignore the (funny? awestruck?) look Lance gave him whenever he tied it up.

Their group trudged outside, where the pit was setting up to finish out the rest of the day. Keith pulled his harness over his head, twirling a drumstick in his palm. He saw Lance with a flag, just about the same height as him, up in the front with the rest of the guard. Lance was spinning or twirling or whatever (at this point, he still said twirling just to rile Lance up), and Keith just watched him gracefully dick around with a flag. _Holy hell he’s beautiful._

“Dude, are you _trying_ to catch flies?” Shiro was next to him, nudging him gently. Keith snapped his mouth closed and blushed, hoping to blame it on the sun. Shiro only chuckled, and moved to climb up onto his podium. The band did their runs, learning a few more drill sets before packing up for the day, half an hour early thanks to Coran being needed for a...zoo emergency in New Zealand? Either way, they were out early and Keith was in a good mood.

Until he saw Lance approaching him. Fuck, he forgot about the bonfire.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to the band bonfire, it’s just that there would be too many people and Keith had more important things to do. Like, _uh_ , teach himself how to play solitaire. Lance would totally believe that one. But Keith being grumpy at the bonfire would be an endless source of annoyance for Lance, who was the one who dragged him there in the first place.

“Tonight’s gonna be _bomb_ _as hell_!” Lance crowed, mussing Keith’s hair as best he could with it still being tied up. “Are you excited?”

Keith shrugged, trying to keep Lance happy. When he was upset, everyone seemed to be affected. And Keith figured that turning him down for a bonfire wouldn’t be the end of the world, but he actually wanted to be Lance’s friend. It was weird.

**-later-**

Lance’s loud blue pickup pulled into his driveway around 7:45, rumbling loudly. Keith was sitting on his front porch, browsing absentmindedly on his phone. He looked up at Lance, who had clambered out of the driver’s seat and up to where Keith was sat.

“Ready, my dear miss?” Lance joked, holding out a hand to help Keith out. Keith rolled his eyes, but took the slender hand in front of him. The tanned skin was smooth and uncalloused, unlike Keith’s own. It was warm, too, and suddenly Keith realized that he had been staring at their clasped hands for a bit too long when Lance shifted a little, unfazed.

Lance chattered his ear off on the drive to Jeremy’s, a senior in the saxophone section who was known for hosting the best bonfires and parties, especially in the summer. Keith was content to listen, and was really reluctant to get out of the truck when Lance found a spot, secretly wishing to stay in the beat-up truck forever just listening to Lance talk.

Immediately taking off around the spacious backyard to say hello to anyone and everyone, Lance gave Keith a quick wave. His stomach sank, and he slunk off and found a pair of deck chairs just near enough to the fire to be warm, but not overwhelming. Keith slid down in his seat, regretting coming already. He’d had a nagging feeling Lance wouldn’t stick around, but the thoughts starting to brew were pushed aside when Shay perched herself in the seat next to him.

“Hi, Keith. Are you alright?” Her voice was pleasant, but nervous. She almost had a right to be; Keith figured his face wasn’t the most pleasant at the moment and they hadn’t talked much before.

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want to leave my house, but here I am…” Keith chuckled weakly, and Shay gave him a knowing look. She relaxed into the seat next to him, her knees bumping into his.

“So, you said you were center snare, right? What do you play during the winter?” She was purposely changing the subject, most definitely, but Keith wasn’t too bothered by it.

“Ah, just marimba. I’ve always been second chair to Shiro though, that bastard.” Keith grinned, and Shay smiled at him. They fell into an easy conversation, Pidge even pulling up a chair after some time. It got darker and darker, but the chatter and fun only grew, with practically the entire band in Jeremy’s backyard.

Lance finally turned up after about an hour and a half, immediately plopping into Keith’s chair and _totally_ invading his personal space. Fucker. He was warm, a lazy flush on his cheeks and a wide grin on his face. If Keith didn’t like Lance so much, he’d consider hating him. Lance wiggled, pressing into Keith further and interrupting the conversation.

“Have you guys made s’mores yet? I make the best ones that will _ever_ grace your peasant mouths.” Keith subtly shook his head, hoping Lance wouldn’t notice and would just leave him the hell alone. Pidge gave him a weird look, and he avoided eye contact.

“ _Keith!_ How long have I- and you- I’m making one right now.” Lance declared, standing up and marching over to a small card table where there were small piles of s’mores ingredients. He grabbed a bit of everything, and then sat himself right back in Keith’s chair. Jesus, he hated loved that kid. Lance quickly made two s’mores, handing one to Keith who decided to eat it reluctantly.

Damn, it was good. Lance gave him an expectant look, to which Keith gave a thumbs-up. He beamed, and Keith decided that he’d never be happier. That bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these boys :'). pining keith is my religion, gender, political stance, and kink lol. also i picked jeremy bc jeremy shada that's like the only reason like if i need oc's i'm just gonna use cast names lmao. ANYWAY listen to young and menace & leave a kudos for these sweet boys

**Author's Note:**

> The vomiting through a saxophone thing is actually an urban legend at my school and I joined the year after but the kid who did it still goes here so like... (also it was a bit exaggerated, when it happened here it just leaked out of the keys I've been told people still have nightmares lmao)  
> Let me know what you think! I appreciate any and most forms of criticisms (I'm sensitive okay).


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